


The Distance between them

by LoveRoundWorld



Series: Gordon Manages to save the day, And not be a dick to Oswald at the same time, Hurrah! [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (Seriously-don't mess with Oz's stuff!), Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Dangerous Situations, Fluffy end (If you can stick it out), Getting Together, Going into potential dangerous places, Hurt, Jim actually already knows Gertrude But Oz doesn't know that!, Jim is a protective fluff, M/M, May add more tags later who knows, Mutual Pining, Oswald is a dangerous-protective fluff, mentions of torture, without back up (What are you thinking Jim?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveRoundWorld/pseuds/LoveRoundWorld
Summary: Oswald and Jim have managed to find the same page. But now Galavan is in town, and threatening our favorite Mobster. He isn’t allowed to tell the police, which means he can’t let Jim know. He doesn’t like being used, but he hates that Galavan has his mother in his clutches even more.Meanwhile, Jim has managed to stumble across one of Galavan’s Red Letters to Oswald, and knows what he has to do. He has to make Galavan think that Oswald and him are not friends. Which means doing something that physically hurts Jim to do-go back to how he used to treat Oswald, and keep him at a distance. At least until he can find a way to rescue Gertrude Kappleput.WARNING: This is part two of a series!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be updating every Friday! I hope you enjoy! (In this, btw, James already knows Gertrude. I'm toying with sharing how with you guys, but we'll see once I'm done with this work (She says, as she's already wrote some of it haha))

                Jim is more than a little irritated today. Oswald hadn’t even called to let Jim know he wasn’t coming over last night. Jim had sat and waited, food growing cold. He’d refused to turn on the game that he’d wanted to watch until Oswald got there, and as a result-he’d missed the game entirely.

                They’d planned on a night at Jim’s place to hang out. Jim had gotten out some board games, memorized which channel played Hockey-surprisingly, one of Oswald’s favorite (Only) sports to watch. He’d made the dinner this time, and…He’d planned on asking Oswald if he…had a preference on men or women partner’s. If the other man said he liked men like that-even if only a little bit-then Jim had planned on making a move.

                There were a dozen different ways he had imagined it. All of which he day dreamed about until his cheeks were redder than a rose, with mixed feelings of happiness and nervousness. He finally decided he would ask Oswald out on an official date, take him somewhere fancy…or to a movie.

                The detective had been so hyped up. Until it got to be an hour-then two, three, four, five, a whole night late. He turned to worry, irritation. He texted, but there were no responses. Called. Nothing but voicemails. He’d even tried Gertrude-who he’ll never tell Oswald that he knew. Also no answer.

                Had something happened? Or were they both not near their phones? Was Oswald ignoring him? It made his heart pound in his chest-had the Mobster figured out about Jim’s feelings?

                It made for a restless night. He hardly slept at all. When Jim got to work, it didn’t get better. He stubbed his toe on his desk-while simultaneously (Or perhaps a cause and effect) he dumped his bitter coffee onto his shirt. Harvey hadn’t let him live it down the rest of the day.

                The blonde decided that he’d just go to Oswald’s after work, and see what was going on. Especially when he saw that the man was obviously okay-hurriedly walking to a car from the side walk. Jim had seen him when Harvey had been driving past twenty fourth street. They had been out looking for a lead on their recent case. (Jim will be honest, if he’d been driving, he would have blocked off Oswald’s limo, and made Oswald talk to him. But he wasn’t driving…)

                Now, here Jim is, eyeing the gate buzzer and the ridiculously sized house up the drive. (He still thinks it’s too much, but it amuses him. It fits with Oswald, somehow). The detective takes a deep breath, and presses the buzzer.

                “Yes?”

                “Jim Gordon. I’m here to talk to Oswald.” He rumbles out, unsure how he was supposed to announce himself when he wasn’t here on business. There’s a moment of silence, before the gate clicks open with a buzz. “Jim! Come on up.” It’s Oswald’s voice, and he sounds tired and a little anxious.

                 There’s a moment of silence, before the gate clicks open with a buzz. “Jim! Come on up.” It’s Oswald’s voice, and he sounds tired and a little anxious.

                Jim got back into his car and drove up slowly. He parks it and sits for a moment. How should he ask about last night. He’s irritated, and a little hurt. It’s one thing to call an dsay you can’t make it, a whole other when you don’t even bother. Unless something happened. If something did happen, he didn’t want to come off as an ass, and storm up and start yelling, or snapping at Oswald.

 

                Taking a deep breath, he get’s out of the car, and goes up the porch steps to the house. Oswald is there, smiling at Jim. “Jim, come in.” He says, letting Jim slip past him quietly, before shutting the door behind him. Jim allows him to take the lead once inside, and follows him into a living room with a table in the middle and a fire place at one end. “What can I help you with, Old Friend?” Oswald asks.

                Jim turns to face him-previously checking out the room. “Did something happen last night?” Jim only catches a glimpse of panic on Oswald’s face, before confusion takes over. “Last night? No, what makes you ask?”

                Anger and hurt flushes over Jim a little. “We were suppo-“

                “Boss.” Jim is interrupted. He turns his head to see Gabriel, and Butch, standing in the large doorway they’d just come through. “There’s…a matter to take care of.” Gabriel eyes Jim momentarily. Jim’s used to the vague speak. Oswald and he had come up with a sense of their friendship, and what it required to keep it. Vagueness on Oswald’s part is one of those things.

                “Can it wait?” Oswald asks, obviously wanting to talk to Jim, see what he had to say. It made Jim’s insides flutter, even if he was still angry about last night.

                “It’s to do with that sensitive matter from earlier.” Gabe speaks again.

                 Jim watches in confusion as Oswlad’s face scrunches up in anger and his face pales. What is going on?

                But Oswald is turning to him now, looking apologetic. “Jim, old friend. I must take care of this as soon as possible. I will be right back, and we can talk about whatever it is, that is on your mind.” He smiles-but it seems a little forced to Jim.

                Jim nods, with narrowed eyes, sitting down in a red cushioned seat to wait. “Thank you.” Oswald adds, before leaving the room, doors shutting behind him. Jim is left alone in the giant room with just his irritation-and now worry. What would make Oswald so angry, and also scared enough for the blood to drain from his face?

               He leans back, eyeing the room again. It’s big, with a high arching ceiling, desined in gold and red. The fireplace is also wider than he’s ever seen, and has a fire crackling away warmly and invitingly. The chairs all have plush red cushions, and the carpet is soft under Jim’s work shoes. He eyes the intricate gold-with swirls of red going through it. It’s actually a beautiful carpet, and Jim thinks he might actually like it. It looked even comfortable enough to lay upon.

               It was with one of these analytical passes with his eyes, that he notices a red that isn’t quite placed right. When he focuses in, he notes it isn’t apart of the carpet. He get’s up from his seated position, and walks over to where it is slightly under a chair further down. Crouching down, he picks it up. It’s a red letter.

               He probably shouldn’t read it, but with nothing else ot occupy himself with, he does. And he is glad when he does.  

               

                                Oswald,

                                                Remember. Tomorrow, 9:15am @ Gotham City Hall. Kill off my competition, or I’ll have Her taken care of.

                                                -G.

                He glances around before hastily taking pictures of the card. James’ heart is pounding as he places it on the floor where he found it.

                Oswald was in a bad mood because of this. This must be why Oswald hadn’t come last night. Blackmail. And the only person “her” James could think of that was important to Os-unless he’d recently gotten a girl he was not aware of-was Gertrude.

                Thinking quickly, James comes to a decision. The note said no cops, and while a twinge of hurt passes through Gordon at how Oswald didn’t think he could come to him- he knew his presence here was putting Gertrude in danger. And him being buddy-buddy with Jim might make people be suspicious. He sighs. Back to the old Jim.

                His back is facing the door when it opens once more. James stiffens, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and turning brusquely on his heel. He see’s Oz’s pale face, and his resolve solidifies. Gordon twists his face up in hate and rage, causing Oswald’s own face to jump to surprise, and then resignation.

                Swallowing down the stab of pain in his heart, James scowls before snapping out “I don’t know why I try.” And storming past Oswald and Butch. He continues storming even past the surprised and hurt “Jim!” that follows his fleeing form. Oswald stays in place, Gordon can feel his eyes. He has to fight down the waves of panic washing over him as he stops storming and practically flees.


	2. Chapter 2

                 _Swallowing down the stab of pain in his heart, James scowls before snapping out “I don’t know why I try.” And storming past Oswald and Butch. He continues storming even past the surprised and hurt “Jim!” that follows his fleeing form. Oswald stays in place, Gordon can feel his eyes. He has to fight down the waves of panic washing over him as he stops storming and practically flees,_

                James gets in his car and starts driving. He pushes the panic down and instead focus’ on the plan forming.

                Oswald would do anything for his mother. Definitely kill for her. But James couldn’t let him do that. How to make it to where whoever it was _thought_ …

                Aha! James turned on the side of the road and looked up who was going to be at Gotham city Hall at 9.15 tomorrow.

                …one of the mayor candidates? He scrolls through his phone and searches all the other candidates. After all, the note had said to kill off all of their competition. And the mayoral election was a pretty big competition. There were no first names that started with ‘G’, and only one with the last name ‘G’. Galavan. Okay. That’s a start.

                Jim sighs, gripping his steering wheel harshly with a flex of his fingers. He can’t get Oswald’s pleading voice out of his head. _Jim!_ He closes his eyes. He has to focus. The sooner he helps fix this, the sooner he can explain to Oswald that this was…that it was killing him to do, and that he was only doing it so that he could help save who he assumed was Gertrude. Oswald’s mother.

                Anger flashes through him. What kind of man or woman threatens someone’s mother?! Jim had spoken to Gertrude many times. She’s a nice older lady. Yeah, she’s a little crazy sometimes, and a little bit obsessed with her son…but she had a good heart that only wanted to protect her son. And she made some pretty good ginger cookies, too.

                If he did manage to rescue her, he might have to explain to Oswald how he knew Gertrude. He wasn’t going to just omit, or lie about it. But…that was admitting that he’d really been on Oswald’s side for much longer than his decision to get shot for the other man.

                Again, he sighs. He hits his hand on the steering wheel. _Focus_. He demands from his brain.

                Right. He needs to get Nygma to make a replica of this letter. He needs it to say something a bit different, but with…Hmm…and he needs to call up the Candidates-other than Galavan and…

                He ponders and works through a plan for about an hour, before pulling back on the road headed to the precinct, phone in hand. He calls Harvey first and explains everything. And then he calls Nygma, asks him to be at the precinct a little later because he needs his help.

 

                James sets it all up. He made sure Harvey knew what was going on. He had Ed replicate the note and hand writing, except _this_ time, it said something else. And then he had it secretly delivered to Oswald. He talked to the target, set everything up. No one would die.

                And now he was following leads on where Galavan could be hiding Gertrude.

                He thinks he may have found her. Or the person in charge of her, at least. It’s late, and he has Harvey working on something else that’s equally important. But he also knows he shouldn’t go in willy nilly without letting someone know, in case something happens. If he dies, well. But if he gets kidnapped, or if he’s laying bleeding out, someone will come sooner or later.

                So, he sends a twenty minute delayed video to tell Harvey where he’d last been headed. What he planned to do, and instructions on how to save the other Candidates. Just in case he does die.

               Jim does find Gertrude. She’s in some sort of cage, and looking harried and worried. When she see’s him-gun in hand and doing a final sweep with his eyes to make sure the coast was clear-she whispers his name like a prayer.

              “James!”

              He smiles, coming over to the bars, and pulling out a lock picking kit. “Mrs. Kappleput.” He whispers back. “Don’t worry. I’ve come to get you out.”

              “Oh, you are such a good boy! I knew Oswald chose a good friend.” She nods, and it makes his smile twist up a little bit more.

              “Wait to say that _after_ we get out.”  


              Gertrude nods vigorously. “Still, I know dese tings. You are good cop, and good friend. Rare, in dis city.” She says.

              Like many times before, Gordon wonders if this is what it’s like to have a caring mother-as his heart warms a little at the acknowledgment. He manages to get the lock undone, and opens the cage. She comes out-she looks a little stiff, but unharmed, thank god, Jim thinks.

              “Alright. We just need to go back the way I came, quietly. I have a car outside, and I’ll take you to your son’s place.” He turns when she catches his hand. “Okay?”

              She nods, and they start out slowly and quietly back the way he had come from.

              They get caught of course. It’s a woman with long dark hair, and she ahs a look of twisted amusement on her face. “Damnit.” Jim mutters. “I have a gun.” He announces, pointing it directly at her. She doesn’t stop, but she does take out a whip. With his other free hand, he grabs out his car keys, handing it to Gertrude. “Run, Mrs. Kappleput!” He hisses, covering the other woman.

              “Now, now. Leaving so soon?” The younger woman says in a silky voice that makes Jim cringe and shudder. “That isn't very nice. I haven’t even got to play wth you yet.” 

               She advances again, this time cracking her whips against the payvement. Jim takes aim, going to shoot her, before she manages to whip the gun out of his hands.                        “Shit.” He mutters under his breath. He backs off quickly, turning and running for the exit where Gertrude was waiting for him. He motions for her to continue on. “GO!” She quickly turns back around and fumbles with the door. It just barely opens, when he feels a searing pain on his back.

                “I said, I haven’t gotten to play with you yet!” The other woman’s voice is a pout. “So you don’t get to leave.” Another searing pain, as he’s still running away, causes him to trip and fall. He struggles to get back up, but there’s a weight on his back now-the young woman. He looks up to see Mrs. Kappleput hesitating at the door.

                “Don’t wait for me, go!” He tries to insist. But then the unknown woman wraps her whip around his neck, and his world is fading fast. Last thing he see’s before everything turns black, his head buzzing-is Mrs. Kappleput, still standing there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated guys! Let me know what ya' think! Thanks for reading! :3


	3. Chapter 3

                “Mrs. Kappulput.” Jim groans, coming to.

“Detective, what is going on?! Are you alright?” He blearily takes in her panicked form. She’s caged again, along with himself.

                His head hurts, but he shrugs the pain to the back of his mind. He’d told her to run, leave. But she had not. “Did they catch you again?” He questions.

                She hesitates in her hysteria before shaking her head. “No. I would not leave you.”

                He leans his head against the wall with a sigh. “Do you know what’s happening?” She whispers, looking around warily.

                How much to tell? “Some Bad people are using you as leverage against your son.”

                “To do what?” her eyes widen.

                Jim shakes his head. “Bad things. It’s why I told you to leave me. They can’t use me against him like they do you.”

                There’s a snort of laughter, and his eyes snap to her. “dat is what you tink.”  At his raised brow she shrugs against her bars. “A mother knows dese tings.” Her face grows to worry. “I worry he will do dese bad tings for us.”

                He slides towards her, and lowers his voice to whisper to her “Don’t worry. I took precautions to make it not happen.” He reaches through and gently squeezes her shoulder. He doesn’t mention that her son already does bad things. He’s never told her, and this won’t start him into it now.

                She smiles a little, nodding- her crazy straw coloured hair bouncing. “You are good for my son.”

"Did anything happen after she knocked me out?" Jim asks, looking around the cage he's in.   
Mrs. Kappleput nods. "Dey put bag over my head. Transfer us to here. It is not same place." She says, looking around. Great. So much for backup in twenty, Jim thinks. Harvey would find where he was last, and then...maybe they left a trail that Harvey can follow. Jim can only hope.

 

 

                One hour later, Tabitha-he learns when she introduces herself- comes and grabs Jim, taking him to a room. Strapping him to a table. He sees the knives and the needles and the other instruments of pain and he knows what is going to happen. She’s going to torturing him. Condition him.

                “You don’t know how excited I am to have a new pet.” Tabitha says, coming forward and petting his hair. “it’s been a little while.” She sighs, and it sounds excited and content. When she starts, he closes his eyes. Holds onto his own self-image, and his tongue. So that it won’t spill forth any answers. But she isn’t asking questions. It’s something different. Conditioning him. Trying to change his mind.

This isn’t the first time this has happened to him. Back in the war… He knows what’s happening and conditions himself in his mind with the opposite. He won’t turn on Oz.

                “You’re a tough one.” The woman pouts. “But I’ll crack you.” She grins, throwing him in his cell. He collapses roughly with no arms outstretched to catch himself.        

                “Detective?” he can’t bring himself to so much as move his head her way. He still tries. “Mr. Jim, what has happened? What has that painted Harlot done to you?!”

                She was worried for him. It made his lips turn up in a smile. He struggle’s and turns his head to her. “’m fine, Ma’am.” He mumbles. He needs to come up with a better plan. No way he gets outta here with her if he’s always this…downed.

                An idea strikes. He needs to pretend. Pretend. The woman already knows that he is ‘strong’. She’s estimated three days until he cracks. He’ll go for five! But first, before he’s too tortured to talk, he needs to take precautions.

                He’ll have to say whatever the woman/whoever tells him to. Which could include Oswald’s secrets to Gertrude. They’d know if he lied. So…

                He crawls to the bars, where Gertrude was still panicking-calling after the ‘Painted Harlot’. “Ma’am.” He rasps out.

                “Oh, dear, you should rest. She took you for at least two days.” She worriedly flutters her hands to indicate the clock outside their abode.

                He shakes his head. “In a minute.” He mutters, before whispering as low as could be heard by her. “Listen. She’s trying to Brain-wash me.”

                “Why?!” Gertrude rears her head back in shock.

                “To use against you and Oswald.” That’s all he knew for sure. But probably because having a head Detective in your pocket when you kidnap, extort and kill people would come in handy too. “If she succeeds, she’s might tell me to say…Oswald has grown wings, for example.”

                Gertrude raises both brows heavenward, smiling faintly. He leans against the bars with a huff. “Or, that he hates you, or that he’s a…I don’t know, a mobster.” He purposely makes it sound ridiculous. “Do not listen. Not reall-” Huff “really.”

                “Not really?”

                “You have to pretend to think that it is true. Act as if I was not warning you now.”

                She’s quiet as he sinks to lay on the ground, panting. She reaches a motherly hand through the bars and pets his hair soothingly. He drifts off to her humming, thinking this is definitely what it was like to have a mother around. It was nice.

               

                It didn’t last long. Tabitha came and got him only a few hours later. Fully prepared for a longer lasting torture.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of all the lovely comments I've been getting, I decided more than one chapter this week will be updated! A special thanks to 'priscilacross' who's commented more than once! Thank you! XD

                Oswald is steaming. He’d done what the lying son of a bitch wanted. He’s killed off two competitors for him so far. And then he beckon’s and Oswald has to come. Like a dog. He’s practically vibrating with hate and anger in the backseat while Gabe drives him to Galavan’s stupid tower.

                If he didn’t have Oswald’s mother, Oswald would _tear him limb from limb_. Instead, he has to act nicely and beg for his mother’s life.

                And then there’s James. As soon as James had left that day, two weeks ago…Oswald had thought hard about what could have made Jim so angry. _I don’t know why I try._ He’d thought about it, and then remembered that James had originally asked if something had happened the night before. And that’s when he remembered-his weekly friendly hang out with Jim. Practically what he lives for, and he _forgot_.

                He’d been planning on going to Jim’s, after meeting up with Galavan to see what the other had wanted. And then…and then he’d found out about this mother. And hadn’t been in any state of mind to remember Jim.

                He thinks on how James must have felt. Sitting alone, waiting for Oswald to show up. No call, no texts telling him he had to cancel. Oswald got a new phone shortly after Jim had stormed out, and…and seen a lot of worried messages from his friend that made his heart warm. And then break. Because he’d managed to break their friendship, because he couldn’t tell Jim about what was going on, for fear of his mother’s life.

                If he can just get through this, he’ll be able to explain. He’ll explain to Jim what happened, and apologize for not at least texting. For making him worry. And he’ll never let his mother out of his sight again.

                It kills Oswald, but he has to wait to go to Jim. If Galavan thinks that they aren’t friends, the better. He won’t kidnap him too, and hold him over Oswald. Also, he won’t get any idea’s that Oswald is working against him.

                “Boss, we’re here.” Butch says, opening his car door.

                Stiffly-more so from anger than joints in pain-Oswald exits the car and enters the building. The elevator ride up is a quiet one, with Only Butch-who would stay in the elevator once they got up there.

                “Mr. Cobblepot.” He loathes that voice, Galavan.

                “Mr. Galavan.” He greets through gritted teeth. “I assure you I’ve kept up my end of the bargain.”

                “Oh, I know. But did you know: Detective James Gordon knows your mother?”

                At the mention of both the people he cares about from this man’s mouth, he freezes. And then surprise hits him. “J-Gordon knows my…mother?” He asks, just barely keeping Jim’s first name off of his lips.

                Galavan is sitting on his desk, with a remote in his hands. “Yes.” He nods. “And it seems as if he caught wind of her missing.” He says, gravely.

                Oswald’s heart is hammering in his chest. “O-Oh?”

                “We caught him trying to stage a rescue all on his own. Isn’t that funny?” He asks.

                Oswald doesn’t think so. His heart stops in his chest. Was James… Was James dead, now?

                “They almost got out too.” Galavan says, before lifting his remote and clicking it.

                Immediately, Oswald hears Galavan’s sister’s voice. He can’t make out what she’s saying. But he hears James’ scream, and he turns his head slowly-in horror. There, on the monitor…there is James, screaming and being cut into. He looks terrible. “I let my sister have him. It might be useful to have him on our team.”

                It feels like ice has been dumped down Oswald’s back. Brainwashed. Like Butch. Tortured and brainwashed. His heart is pounding in his chest and he fights to keep his cool. Knowing it will make it worse on his mother, if he spoke out now. Worse on James, if he tried to kill this disgusting man. This disgusting man who was trying to ruin the only two good things in Oswald’s life.

                Oswald knew he was ambitious and ruthless, and dark. The only thing keeping him from killing anyone he pleased…were the two this man had. Oswald felt thunderous, and full of rage. He _will_ kill this man. He can’t wait to be able to stab him a million times over. Flay him. And his damn sister.

                “I thought I’d let you know that we still have your mother. And she’s doing quite well.” The channel changes, and Oswald is both thankful and panicked at that. Thankful he can’t see and hear the man he’d come to love being tortured. Panicked because he doesn’t know what’s happening now.

                He squashes both feelings down, as he takes in his mother’s angry face. It surprises him, he’d only seen her angry a handful of times in his life-at the boys in school who beat him, at him once for breaking something too…and at the ‘painted harlots’ come to take her boy away. But hse looks closer to the mad that she usually was when boys were hurting him in school. Concerned and protective. She must really actually know Gordon. When had that happened?

                “She’s quite fond of calling my sister a painted harlot.” Galavan says in wry amusement. Oswald fights to not clench his fist. He wants to take that letter opener he saw on Galavan’s desk, and stab it through the man’s eye. “Here are your orders for the next…transaction.” Galavan says, and Oswald turns to see the horrid red note in an outstretched hand.

                Oswald takes it without a word. He waits until Galavan dismisses him, until he leaves. He has to do something. He needs a plan to help his mother and Jim, _now._ He gets in the car, and silently contemplates this, frantic to find an answer. And the whole way back to the mansion, he thinks to himself… _If only I’d warned Jim._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah!!! I'm Late, I'm sorry!!! Two Chapters for you!   
> Side note: I'm not in my sadistic depression mood, so...no torture scene. If people actually want it, I may add it later. But if not, I'm just happy to keep it implied!  
> This Chapter contains mentions of mental conditioning and torture. Beware.

James is exhausted and sore when he finally is dumped back in the cell. Tabitha had ordered him not to talk to Gertrude or say anything until Tabitha returned. He was not to eat anything the guards gave him.

                He knew it was a test. She’d starved him for the three days. It’ll be almost impossible to resist. He almost feels trapped in his mind, behind the compelling command. He knows he could break it, if he concentrates really hard. He’d don’t it before, back in the war. When he hadn’t been prepared for this sort of thing. But it would take to much effort that he doesn’t have.

                So when she drops him off, he curls up on the floor, ignoring the kind woman in the other cell. He can hear her concern, her pitch getting higher the longer he does not answer. And when the guards bring food, he ignores that too. On the third day, he can actually smell the food. They’ve made something…mashed potatoes and meat. His eyes dart to it, before he remembers the pain of disobeying Tabitha.

                It makes his stomach roil on the inside. He doesn’t want to be someone’s pet. But he has to, he can’t do anything. He’s too weak…Not unless she says th-

                “James, you must eat, please.” He hears Gertrude’s begging again. He feels bad, trapped behind his own eyes. Unable to do anything. He ignores her. “You will die if you do not.” Her voice is a hushed, warm concern that washes over him from her.

                _It’s a test, a test. Tabitha wants me to suffer for holding out for so long, and she wants to make sure her hold is good. She won’t actually kill me._ He has to say this to himself. Self preservation is part of the reason he cracked out of the last brain washing he’d had. He can’t think that he’s going to die, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to prove to Tabitha he was under her control.

                Around the time the guards come to take away their dishes again-and his food for the last three days-Tabitha comes. “Ah, pet. You listened so well.” Her voice grates on his nerves. The cage door opens, and he flinches inside his consciousness.

                “Get away from him you painted whore!” Gertrude hisses, and there’s a rattling against the cage next to him.

                “Silence. The only reason you’re off limits, is because my brother still needs the Penguin’s help.”

                James want’s to snarl not to call him that. But he knows why she’s not using his secret crush’s name. At least part of it. The other may very well be because she wanted to disrespect him.

                “Now.” She says turning back to James. “Get up.”

                His body follows the command shakily.

                “Oh, such a good boy.” She says, coming up and stroking his face. “Now eat.” She says, handing him warmed food. “You’ll need to regain your strength and health. So we can make use of you.”

                He boils inside, but his body listens. He can only hope that he’ll last and that when the time comes, he can break free. He eats his food in silence, as Gertrude finally quietens


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than I thought...I may post another before next Friday

               The next few days are a blur for James. They weren’t very memorable. Not until he and Gertrude were brought from their cages, and-in Gertrude’s case-shoved at the feet of Galavan. “Ah, you see, Penguin. I’ve come into possession of a new corrupt Detective.”   

               Inside, James perks up, and also panics. He turns his head a little, to see the Mobster standing there, white faced. “What are you talking about, new corrupt Detective? Jim would never-”

                “Why, my sister works magic. And not just on your friend Butch, like you’ve seen already.”  

                James watches as his friends eyes dart to him, widened. “James.” He breathes out with pain. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers. The other man’s hands are tied behind his back. James can’t see what with, from this position.

                James watches on in wide eyed horror when he see’s Tabitha come up silently behind his friend. He wants to shout out and warn him, but all that escapes him is a small whimper, before Tabitha has ahold of the man, and kick’s his leg the wrong direction.

                James feels like he’s dying inside as he’s stuck in place watching his friend screams in pain, falling to the ground. Jim’s body feels charged with tension, wanting to rush to him, but unable to. Gertrude rushes to her son on her knees. And all James can do, is watch.

                Tabitha calls out to Jim. “Pet, come.” She gestures to the empty space beside her. His body walks over-slightly limping from her previous torture. He inwardly recoils when he feels her drape herself on him. The Detective’s skin crawls as he feels her pet through his hair and down his nape. He feels sick.

                “Won’t it be so fun to have you kill your little friend, pet?” Tabitha asks. He looks at her, and see’s the twisted smile on her face. “I hear you’ve saved him a few times around the block. I wonder how that’ll make you feel, to destroy something you had so passionately tried to save?” Her hand inches up his chest and he wants to wrench away. Wants to kill her, and her brother, and curl up around Cobblepot and maybe hide away from everything until he stopped hurting. Stopped remembering blades and thoughts of killing the man he loved. He’s horrified. “It sounds so delicious, _pet_.

                His body does shudder a little, when she breathes that word in his ear. “But first, let’s see those eyes Penguin watches you with turn from the shine of looking upon a hero, and into anguish, shall we?” He looks back to the two on the floor in front of him. He couldn’t even think the other’s first name…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screw it, I'll do add a chapter now. Still a cliff hanger though.

                “I love you mother.” Oswald whispers. Knowing they’d kill her. Kill him. Have James do it with that Bitch draping over him.

                “Pet.” The Bitch says, and Oswald clenches his teeth. “Kill the Penguin’s mother.”

                Oswald looked up at him. He watched in horror as Jim is handed a gun. Aimed at his mother. “Jim. Please, don’t.” He begs, knowing it was useless. That James wasn’t in control anymore. That he wouldn’t want to do this normally. Would hate himself in times by himself.

                His mom looks at James and then Oswald. “It’s okay.” She says softly.

                Oswald knows she’s afraid. Doesn’t know exactly what’s happening. It’s all his fault…his mother was kidnapped. Jim had been _tortured for days_. And Oswald had blown his one chance to save them both, by bringing _Butch_ instead of Gabe. If he did get out of this, Butch would die a slow, _painful_ death. He’d use Victor Zaaz to get Butch, bring him to Oswald.

                But he won’t get out. He can’t save his mother. He can’t save James from this pain. From the pain he already indured. He can’t even bring himself to look at the other-covered in red from cuts and missing skin, and bruises. Eyes expressive, but facial expression cold.

                “Struggling will get you no where, pet.” A silky voice shatters Oz’s thoughts.

                Looking up, he sees James, pain on his face, as he struggled. A tear running down his bruised and scraped face. His hand holding the gun, is shaking with the effort of not raising it to Oswald’s mother.

                “Fine. I’ll use our secret little safe word.” A command word, the override button. The Bitch sighs exasperatedly, and says “Oswald.”

                Something snaps in James-Oswald can see it as the gun points directly at his mother, his look hardens. All Oswald’s previous, small hope vanishes. He doesn’t have time to even move to protect his mother before the shot is fired.

                Oswald’s head swivels in fear. Fear in that he would gaze upon his mother’s dead or dying body. Instead, she remains where she had been, eyes squeezed shut in expectation.

                “NO!” an almost inhuman wail bursts out of Tabitha's mouth. Oswald looks up to see her rush past them. To her brother, lying on the ground dying.

                Surprise washes over Oswald, and he looks over with relief at Jim. Jim who’s coming to them and kneeling down.

                “H-how?” Oswald asks in awe, looking back over his shoulder from where James is untying him. James stops for a split second to look him in the eyes before returning to his task.

                “This wasn’t the first time I’ve been tortured to this end. After the first time, I took precautions.”

                “You mean, you weren’t _ever_ under her control?” he rubs his wrists as James is suddenly hugged by Oswald’s mother. It’s a sight he’d never thought he’d see. His mother hugging someone other than him-let alone someone he had told her in recent months he was in love with. She was always wary of people stealing her boy.

                “Not exa-”

                “How dare you!” The woman, now covered in her brother’s blood screeches. She’s not looking at Oswald, but at James. Who’s back is turned. He turns around lifting a brow and gun. She laughs. “I only put one bullet in there. Now I will take something precious from _you_.”

                Oswald watches as three knives head straight for him. It happens as if in slow motion. He watches as James lets the gun go, as he throws himself in their path, dropping like a stone when they bury themselves inside him.

                Oswald’s heart drops with him. And then people are busting in, to the resque, too late.  Unlike James. Always on time.

                Oswald ignores his broken leg to scramble the rest of the way to James with a heartbreaking cry.

                He reaches the raggedly breathing man. “James, no. Oh, no.” He feels the hot tears dragging down his face. “No, no-SOMEONE, GET TRASNPORT TO A DOCTOR!!” he screeches.

 

                “James, I’m s-Sorry. I should have told you sooner.” He whispers to the dying man. He looks at the knives, surprised to see only one in his chest. The others were in his arms. He’d pulled them up to try and protect his chest and face. There was so much blood…Oswald imagines that this must have been very similar to when James took bullets for him. Except he had been oblivious, and now…now-after months of nightmares similar to this involving bullets-he has to see it this time.

                James smiles up at him, reaching a shaky hand up to Oswalds face. He coughs as Oz leans into the hand, gently holding it with his own. His mother is suddenly there. He’s surprised to see tears in her eyes as well. Maybe not as surprised as he would have been, if he hadn’t seen the hug, or heard that James talks to his mother. “You can’t die yet, James Gordon.” He says, trying for a stern tone. “You have to explain how you and my mother already know each other.”

                James get’s a small twinkle in his eye as he laughs a little followed by a grimace.

                And then there are people taking James away, taking him to a hospital. Oswald stares after them, after failing at standing. His mother pulls him in tightly. “Do not worry. Our Detective is strong and brave. He will survive.” And then she helps her son to his feet and he limps over to the ambulance with her.

                They’ve just got him in.

                “Only family is allowed.” The EMT says briskly. Oswald is about to threaten, bribe, anything to stay with Jim. After the weeks they’ve all had, an EMT thinks he can stand between Oswald and his Detective…Oswald narrows his eyes.

                “For Fuck’s sake, Justin. They practically _are_ family. Let him in.” A voice Oswald had not expected to help says. Bullock. Suddenly, he’s being boosted in with Jim, by said detective. “Go on. I’ll take care of your mom. We’ll meet ya’ll over there.”

                He’d never been more happy to see the detective then right now. In fact, never thought he’d be happy to see the other at all. “Thank you, Detective Bullock.”

                “Don’ mention it.” He tips his hat, before turning to Gertrude. Who now had a concerned Gabe next to her, fussing. “Let’s get her to the hospital, follow the ambulance.”

                The doors shut, so he doesn’t hear anything else. Instead, he watches the EMT doing his job, saving Jim. If that’s even…


	8. Chapter 8

                It didn’t take them long to reset Oswald’s leg, and to put a cast on it. Give him some medicine to help the pain. It also causes him to pass out for the night. When the man wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed and it’s mid-day. His mouth feels like cotton, and he feels sore. His brain groggily tries to catch up. It goes through his mind slowly.

                Oswald blinks slowly. He knows he’ll probably be arrested. He’d killed quite a few candidates. And he’s a more well known criminal. He can’t imagine the GCPD won’t be eager to string him up, even if he was being blackmailed. So he’s surprised when he finally focus’ in and sees no cuffs on his hands.

                He looks around to see his mother sitting in a chair next to his bed. She looks a little bruised, but otherwise fine. Maybe a little bit worried. That’s when Oswald remembers Jim.

                “James!” He shoots up.

                “Oswald!” He’s startled his mother, who is now reaching over to take his hand. “Oswald, you are finally awake!”

                “Mother, where’s James?” He asks, trying to get out of the bed.

                “James…” Oswald stills at the tone of voice his mother has. Hesitant and worried. “James has been in and out of surgery for a while now. They say it should be a few more hours until he is stable.” Or dead, Oswald thinks.

                Oswald wants to find James, be with him, but…He knows he can’t. Not right now. He lets out a groan, and sits back, worry taking over every part of him.

                “You must be hungry, Oswald. I will go get something for you.” All Oswald can do is nod numbly. He prays to whoever is listening that James will make it out.

                His mother’s barely gone for two minutes, when Oswald’s doors open once more. He almost asks if his mother needed anything else, when he see’s who is at the door. Janice Caulfield. The woman Candidate he thought he’d killed.

                His face pales in his confusion. “Janice Caulfield?” He asks, voice low. How? He’d…He’d killed her. Point blank in the chest.

                He goes to ask how, how is she alive when he’d killed her himself? But before he can, Detective Bullock comes in. “Pretty nifty plan you and Jimbo cooked up, huh? Have you shoot the Candidate’s in the chest and have them go into hiding while you and Jimbo took care of Galavan, eh?”

                Oswald’s stomach flips. That’s why the letters always said, shoot in the chest. Jim…Jim must have seen the letter, to replicate it. But when? Oswald thinks fast, when had Jim had the opportunity to-the letter. The one that had been on the floor. Oswald had found it there after Jim had left that day, in an angry fit. But he hadn’t really been angry? He’d known! He’d pretended, because…because the letter said no cops. He’d been protecting Oswald, as always.

                He’d left that day, and gotten a way to save Oswald and protect James’ own moral compass at the same time. Oswald’s heart swells. James had been looking for Oswalds mother when he was caught. But he’d known about it because of that letter. If Oswald had known before all of this was over, he would have probably panicked about Galavan finding out and taking it out on his mother. But all he can feel is gratitude. To James and whoever else helped with this.

                “Thank you, Detective Bullock.” He says vaguely, for the purpose of not alerting the woman in the room that he’d had no previous knowledge of this plan. That he’d gone to her with the sole purpose to stop her breathing.

                Bullock tips his hat. “Sure, penguin.” It says something that Oswald is more exasperated than angry at the name.

                “I know you need your rest, and are probably worried about your friend, Detective Gordon.” The woman starts out, and it makes Oswald a little angry that she brings this up. “I just thought I should thank you for sparing my life in such a precarious situation.”                 Oswald just nods.

                “And…I think you might be a better candidate for a Mayor, if everything I’ve heard of you is true.” Now Oswald is staring at the woman like she’s gone mad.

                “Me? Mayor?” Who told her what, exactly? He’s the king of the underground of Gotham. _Mayor_?

                She shrugs. “I’m just saying. I’m not running anymore, although I wouldn’t mind giving you a few tips.”                 “Not running anymore?” Oswald looks at Bullock, who’s spoken. He looks as baffled as Oswald is.

                “Oh, yes.” She says throwing up her hands. “I might not be so lucky next time as to have forewarning of the danger on my life. I think I’ll stick to the lower ranks of Politics for now.” She says with a laugh. “Anyhow, I’ll let you get back to it. Detective, if you could come with me, I had a few questions?” She says as she turns on her heel and walks out brusquely.

                Bullock gives Oswald a look-eyebrows up- with a shrug before following the woman out. Mayor…Oswald might like the sound of that. Maybe. He adjusts on the bed, moving his casted leg to a comfortable position. For now, he’s more worried about James. And perhaps finding Tabitha, to see how _she_ likes to be tortured. He hasn’t talked to Victor Zasz for a bit. Oswald is sure he’ll be more than delighted helping Oswald get Butch for betraying Oswald, and then helping him find Tabitha and perhaps teaching Oswald a few tricks of his profession.

                But even as he makes plans for revenge, his mind keeps wandering back to his friend, stuck in surgery. Back to when he’d seen James bleeding on the ground, knives sticking out of him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time, James style-(Meaning all action, after the vague parts)

                As soon as James is out of surgery, Oswald goes to see him. He ignores the protests of his nurses. He goes directly to James’ room, and sits in a chair beside James’ bed. He doesn’t care how uncomfortable it is-the broken leg being the opposite of his bad leg. He snarls at anyone who tries to make him move.

                “Mr. Cobblepot, I really must insist that you get some rest!”                

                “Then bring another bed in here!” He demanded. The nurse scampers away. It’s a day since he started camping out on the chair. He kind of hopes they do bring in that bed.

                “Be nice, Oz.” A groan comes from the bed.

                “James!” He exclaims, getting up and leaning slightly on the bed.

                He sees that his friend is awake, bleary eyed but looking over at him. James grins at Oswald loopily.

                Oswald returns the smile, eyes watery. “I’ll be nice as soon as they leave me be. If they just brought the damn bed in.”

                James chuckles a little, but it causes him to wince. “Easy, James. Take it easy.” Oswald mutters, concern rippling through him.

                James smiles again. “You’re…always so…good to me…” He huffs, his eyes drifting shut. “I…think I’m gonna sleep…for a bit.” He confesses.

                Oswald nods, smiling waterly at the man, tears threatening. He pets his friends hair out of his face. Rest was good, James needed rest to recover. And now that he’d woken up for a bit…it was good. Everything was going to be fine. Oswald breathes a sigh of relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

                The next time that James wakes up, Oswald has his bed next to James. Oswald is reading on the bed, leg propped up. “You look comfortable.” James says, his voice scratchy from disuse.

                Oswald jumps, setting his book aside, and turning to look at James. “James, you’re awake again.”                

               “Again?”                

                “Yes. It was only for a few seconds before. Maybe a minute.” James must not remember. He had been out of it, at the time.

                “Ah. And your mother?”

                “Safe. Because of you.” Oswald answers readily enough, his appreciation and love for James swelling up. “We’re all safe because of you.”

                “I…Just did what I could.”              

                “You did more than that, James.” Oswald says, eyebrow cocked. James looks at him with confusion, and the black-haired man is slightly amused. “I know about you staging everything with the Mayoral Candidates.” He says. “And that you went looking for my mother.”                 James rolls his eyes a little, still a little tired looking. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t exactly let him blackmail you into killing people without trying to do something. I am a cop. Also, she’s your mother.”

                “And I appreciate it, as always.” Oswald says, before he adds. “And I’m sorry I didn’t…tell you. About Galavan.”                 “I knew that you couldn’t.” James says.

                “But…You were tortured.”               

                James looks at him, nodding his head. “Yeah, because I went in there without back up. I didn’t know who I could trust, other than Harvey and Ed. So I had to. But it all worked out.”

                Oswald huffs in irritation. “You were tortured for days. Galavan thought it’d be fun to show me.”

                Now James looks startled, and then apologetic. “I’m S-“              

                “Don’t you dare apologize, James. It was that bastard Galavan and his sister.” Oswald looks stern. He can’t imagine how James could be the one apologizing for this. “Him showing me, is what made me speed up my plans. I _had_ to get both you and my mother out. I hadn’t even known you were caught before that!” Oswald explains. “It made me a little reckless, but it would have worked, if I had brought Gabe, instead of Butch.” He growls.

                “Butch?” James asks. “I think I remember Galavan saying that Tabitha…she un-programmed him, huh?”

                Oswald nods. “The kicker is, I was about to let him go, anyway.” Oswald huffs, clearly irritated.

                Oswald watches from his bed as James looks at him in curiosity. “Oh?”

                Oswald shrugs. “Yeah. You were very much against it. So I was just gonna…Send him away with orders to never work against me, and stay out of Gotham. Find a life and what not-elsewhere.”                

                James grins. “That’s good.”

                Now Oswald is the one to roll his eyes. “Yes, you have quite the effect on me sometimes, James. I wish you’d told me that you had been in such a position before. If I’d known, I would have come up with that plan a lot sooner.” Oswald had been thinking on that. How James had said that it wasn’t the first time he’d been…programmed, brain washed-tortured. It must have made him very uncomfortable around Butch and Oswald. And Zazs too. (Who wasn’t uncomfortable around the latter, though?)

                Oswald wants to ask about that, but he refrains. Instead, he asks, “So, you said that you weren’t exactly not under her control. But you broke it. How?”

                Oswald stares intently at James, who shifts and winces from his injuries once more. “Ah, well. Because of my…previous encounter with this…I just made her command word do the opposite for me. Every time she would try to condition me to listen to whatever she had to say with it, I thought of doing the opposite. Or something similar, but just enough the same she wouldn’t notice. It made her command word, my break word. All the other times, I let myself be conditioned. So, I would do what she said immediately. I already knew that survival would cause me to hesitate, and killing someone that I cared for would also make me hesitate. So, I just had to wait.”

                “You amaze me, old friend.” Oswald says, in awe. He doesn’t know if just anyone could do that. He doesn’t think so.

                They sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the fact that they are alive. They survived, and they still had one another. And Gertrude. And Jim’s friends. Oswald thinks on James. He thinks he wants to ask him if he’ll go on a date with him. But James isn’t into men. The only reason Oswald gives it thought, is because he doesn’t want to let the chance go. When they’d been about to die, he’d thought to himself how stupid it was, that he’d never told Jim how he felt.

                He doesn’t think Jim would ridicule him. James isn’t that kind of person. But James does have someone he is in love with. Which causes Oswald to wonder. It’d been a few months, and he still hadn’t heard if James had made a move. Or who it was he loved.

                “Jim?” Oswald calls out, uncertain if he wants to ask. “Why…Why did you and Leslie Thompkins not work out?” He asks. “Why…why not her? Why someone else?”

                He turns his face back to the detective, who’s staring at him with a contemplative face. “She’s a good friend, great. But…when we were together, she…just didn’t click. She knew it too, I guess. This new guy she seems to fancy, she can’t say anything but nice things, and ‘sure, yeah, he’s a little bit odd’ she’ll say, but she doesn’t analyze it, like she would me. She would categorize my que’s, and my habits. Not fondly, but…I don’t know.” Oswald can’t think of anything other than his propensity to throw himself at danger like an old friend, that would make him not analyze everything Jim is with adoration and awe and fondness.

               “And me, well, I’m always thrusting myself in danger.” Jim continues on. “She was always worried-still is, now that we’re just friends. And I…I’m not much of a PDA kind of person. If you wanted to hold hands, sure. But kissing in public? Maybe, but not at the precinct! She liked that kind of thing, though. I guess, though…when you’re in love, you want to be shown off, or to tell everyone that ‘yes, this person is my person.’ But…Leslie wasn’t it for me.” He says. He glances away, clearly embarrassed a little, before turning his gaze back on Oswald. “Does that…help explain it?” he asks, expression turning a mixture of hopeful and questioning.

              Oswald himself has more questions, though. “And…this new person you…that you are in love with…” It pains Oswald to say that sentence out loud “You want to…show them off?”

               He watches in amusement, and with a slight twist of jealous pain in his chest, as Jim turns red. “Ah-ahem-y-yeah. I feel like…Like I want to just-” Oswald watches as Jim mimes grabbing onto something-or someone, in this case-and pulling them close. “I want…them near me, all the time. I want to lean on them, and just, cuddle sometimes, kiss them-as embarrassing as all of that sounds.” He laughs.

                Oswald’s eyes are wide, heart fluttering. “No.” He responds. “I wish that someone felt that way about me.” He tells his friend in almost full truth. Yes, anyone would be kind of flattering. But…he only really wishes that it was James talking about him this way. “To have someone want you around, always-to have them want to just kiss you, even in public, despite the way they don’t like PDA…It’s beautiful.”

                He lets out a sigh, thinking on it in an imaginary world. Where James was talking about him, telling him these things about Oswald, not someone Oswald doesn’t even know who it is…It would be nice, to have Jim as his own. For love to go both streets on this road, instead of the streets veering away a little-Jim towards someone else, Oswald always trying to keep just next to Jim’s.

                The black-haired man looks up from his bed, to see a frightened look on James’ face, twisted with determination and the look he gets before he does something he knows he won’t be able to take back, that could have ramifications that he has already thought of. Oswald wants to know why he has such a face. Wants to ask.

                But Jim speaks first. “Oswald?”                

                “Yes, James?” He watches how that name gets a smile out of the pale detective-like it always does.

                “Can you come help me sit up, so we can talk a bit better?”

                Oswald is instantly scrabbling out of bed, towards his friend. “Certainly, James.” He says that version of his name on purpose, to try and get that smile to stay.

                His heart is pounding in his chest, as it always does when he comes into physical contact with his favorite Detective and one of his only friends. He bends down, about to slip an arm under the man reaching up to be helped to a sitting position, when his face is suddenly pulled forward.

                Oswald let’s out a surprised grunt when his lips are quickly but amazingly gently brought to James’. His brain hasn’t caught up to the situation yet, as he stares wide eyed at the detective attached to his lips. James’ eyes are closed, lashes elegantly arching down and then upwards. His face is more handsome from this close, Oswald thinks. He doesn’t know how that is possible. Everything about Oswald’s life seems ten times better and more spectacular and beautiful with James this close, ki-

                Kissing him. Kissing him! Oswald’s eyes flutter shut, letting himself feel the kiss, feel James’ hands on him-one on his shoulder, the other on the nape of his neck, crossing the line into Oswald’s black hair. The Mobster moves his mouth, and then James’ does. It causes Oswald to let out a tiny whimper at the movement, a hungry whimper, begging for more.

                As the kiss went on, Oswald found his body moving fully onto the bed. His hands had flown out on either side of James’ shoulders when James had pulled him in, so he just brings up his legs. It’s awkward, though, with one in a cast and the other always acting up. But he _refuses_ to let this moment go, over a little bit of discomfort in one leg and awkward positioning in the other.

                He must have made a noise or something, because the next thing he knew, James has somehow gained the strength enough to flip them. Oswald is lying down, and James is mostly to one side, but hovering over Oswald. He does the move, without breaking the kiss.

                Oswald moans a little at the changed positions, grabbing lightly-he still knows somewhere in this windswept brain that James is injured-onto detective Gordon.

                When James does pull back, they are both panting. They stay-staring at each other from their new vantage point for a few minutes while they catch their breathes. As soon as-maybe a little before-Oswald catches his breath, he opens his mouth. “James?” It comes out in a small whisper. “W-what was that?”

                James smiles down at him. “I was never very good with words when they counted.” He says, and Oswald just stares up at him as if he could either break Oswald’s world, or fix it eternally. “So, I was…confessing to you, through a kiss.”                 Oswald’s’ heart skips erratically in his heart. “Me?” It’s an even smaller voice than before. “You…You want _me_?” he asks, in disbelief.

                James’ answer comes with him leaning in, and placing their foreheads together. “For a very long time, Oswald.” He confesses, with a wry smile.

                It makes Oswald grin and feel like he’s won the biggest lottery. “I feel the same. I’ve…I thought you weren’t into men? Just those gorgeous women?”

                James shakes his head. “I lean to women, but…a few really great men come along. And…and now I have kissed the best.”

                James is very cheesy, and red from his cheesy line. Oswald loves it, eats it up, soaks it in. “A-and you want to show _me_ off?” He huffs. Oswald’s a _gangster_. Showing him off to James’ fellow officers…

                James nods, and Oswald takes in the almost shy quality to it. “Yeah. If…you’ll let me. If we even get a chance to, someday.”                

               Oswald’s heart flutters again in his pounding chest, skipping. And then he laughs. At James’ slightly confused, hurt face, Oswald explains. “I’m just picturing Detective Bullock finding out.” He snickers.              

                James smiles, leaning back in from where he’d pulled back in slight hurt before. “He already knows.”                

                “What?” Oswald asks, dumbfounded. He shouldn’t be. Harvey Bullock was Jim’s best friend and partner. But it still surprised him. “Rea-Oh! _Oh_!” He could kick himself.

                “What?”                

                “It makes sense now! When Bullock said it wouldn’t fit your lifestyle choices-at least the ones you wanted-to be able to have children!” Oswald exclaims.

                James, however groans, moving his head to Oswald’s shoulder. “He told you that?!”

                Oswald merely laughs, nodding. “He…Well, I suppose he was trying to be helpful. And he was.” He half shrugs against James. If Oswald had felt he owed Bullock before, for hinting to him to find out why Jim was shot _before_ he next visited…with this new information…Bullock had been trying to help them both along for a while. And it wasn’t his fault that Oswald hadn’t taken up the hints-there had been much more than the ‘lifestyle choices’ hint. “I may have to gift detective Bullock and change my previous opinion of him.” He admits slowly. Only a little bit, though.

                James laughs before he suddenly shifts, so that now-Oswald is lying half on him, half on the bed. Oswald tries to make sure not to get too close to any of his still healing injuries. He rests his head above where he knows the bruising and hole that the knife had put in James’ chest was. And they stayed like that for a while. They didn’t say much, but now that they knew their mutual feelings were shared, they were content to just let the rest of the night pass by, while being so close to each other. While holding each other. It was the best night Oswald has had for a very long time, and that feeling was also mutual for Jim.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was already going to post the rest of everything today (It's My Birthday, and what better way to express it than to write to my hearts content? Am I right?)  
> But, now I also feel better after writing, because of an incident at work. A man that-is usually quite cheerful and funny (About my father's age)-got on the topic of how he doesn't condone the type of thing that allows "kids now a days going around, girls marrying girls, and boys to boys. It shouldn't be tolerated."  
> I'm not particularly mad he said it, but becuase I was at work I couldn't start an argument...per say. So, I responded with "This is why we keep important discussions like Politics, religion and Love, out of the work place. So I'll just be keeping my /opposing/ argument to myself."  
> Anyway, Hope y'all enjoy this last chapter. I'm depating a one shot with Oswald and Jim adopting Selina. Maybe. :3 Happy Freitag!

                They woke to Detective Bullock saying “It’s about bloody fucking time! Jesus, getting you two together is like oil and water!”

                Oswald feels James groan into his hair, as Oswald himself lifts a brow and blinks open his eyes to glare at James’ best friend. He stops when he sees his mother with him. Before he can even scrabble to explain, she’s got this blinding smile-right before she smacks Detective Bullock upside the head. “Leave my boys alone, Detective.”

                “Ouch! It’s _true_!”

                “All the same, you weren’t the only one trying to get them together. Yet, here you are. The only one complaining.” Oswald watches in awe as his mother drags Detective Bullock-who is laughing now and nodding-out of the room.

                “Mother?”                

                She pauses. “A mother knows dese tings.” She says with a mischievous smile. “And now I have two good boys to watch out for.” She nods to herself, before continuing on with Bullock behind her.

                “Yeah, good luck with Jimbo. He’s a freaking-“ The door cuts off the rest of his-probably true sentence.

                There’s a moment of silence where Oswald listens to the thudding of James’ heart in his ear. “Mrs. Kappleput was really just here…”

                Oswald grins, looking up at Jim, who was refusing to open his eyes. “Yes. And apparently, it’s mother to you now. She’s claimed you. There’s no escaping it now.”

                He expects a sigh of exasperation. Or a groan. Instead, he watches as James’ eyes flutter open to look down at him. James smiles down at the black haired man, and he finds his heart skipping. “I already feel like that. It’s nice to know…” He trails off.

                “Know?” Oswald encourages.

                “It’s nice to know a mother’s love.”                

                 Now Oswald is confused. “But, I thought, the woman in the picture at your apartment?”                

                 James looks away, sighing. “She was…she died early on, and then I lived with my Grandparents until I was eight. They died and…I was stuck with my…father.” He grimaces. Oswald doesn’t question the obvious dislike of his father. James will tell him, sometime. “But…when we were in those cages, and even before, when I was visiting her…she was always very nice. And she worried about me, asked me about my day, insisted I eat more.” He laughs.

                Oswald smiles, knowing full well his mother’s love. “Yes. And _how_ is it that you came to start visiting my mother, Jim?”

                Jim’s eyes widen, and he glances down at Oswald. “Well…you see.” He starts. “I was feeling…guilty about pushing you into that river.”

                “River?” Oswald asks, trying to draw up a time James would have to be guilty for pushing Oswald in a river.

                “Yeah…when I faked your death.”

                “Oh. Why? You saved my life.” Oswald questions, incredulous.

                He feels James shift uncomfortably underneath him. “I pushed you into freezing waters, with a broken leg and nose. I had…I had no idea if you’d survive. I felt… I went to your mothers, to talk with her. I was going to tell her-an abridged version, nothing on why’s-but I couldn’t.”

                “James.” Oswald wants to reprimand him for feeling guilty. Any other thing would have gotten them both killed. Or Oswald for sure killed, instead of giving him a chance.

                But James isn’t done. “I told her I was a detective. She was very distrusting for a minute.” He laughs, and Oswald nods along.

                “Yeah, before you, Cops couldn’t be trusted in Gotham.”                

                “Yeah, I got that that first year.” James says dryly. “Anyway, I mentioned I was a friend of yours, and she instantly lit up. I told her…You had sent me to tell her that you’d had to leave Gotham for a while.” He says. “It made me feel guilty for that-because you might never come back.” He says and Oswald hadn’t known that James had felt like this at all. “After that, I just couldn’t stay away from visiting her, or her butter cookies.” He admits.

                Her butter cookies are the best. But Oswald ignores that, and inches forward so his face is hovering above James’. “You shouldn’t have felt…” He sighs. “This is why I grew so attached to you.” He admits. “Naïve and innocent. You felt guilty over having to take the better of three bad options…You have saved my life, so many times. You still have such a light view of our city. Despite it’s dark underbelly being shown to you. It makes me want to protect that optimistic hope.” He says.

                As he’d spoken, James’ face had slowly turned red. “I…”

                Oswald grins at him, fully enjoying making the scrupulous detective turn red. “You want so much light for this city. It’s why I’m so surprised by the way you actually want _me_.”                

                Oswald had barely finished the sentence before James had flipped him over, causing Oswald to squeak. Now James was hovering above him, despite the obvious strain it put on his battered body. “I love you, because of the way you look at me. The way that you don’t look at anyone else. Like I’m a hero, that I could do no wrong. Even when I rejected your friendship so many times. Because you are always so excited to be near me-despite the way I’m so steadfastly set in my ways. Even Harvey has a hard time with that.” He explains in a growl. “I want you because of the way you love your mother. The way you can manipulate anyone, but choose not to do so with myself or her. How smart you are…How if you asked anyone else, they’d tell me how vicious and ruthless you are, but I’ve only ever seen that soft, willing to help side of you. The way you dress. The way you choose to be discreet enough I’d never have to see evidence of that brutality. I wouldn’t have to investigate. You’d never make me turn the other cheek to anything-my policies, my steadfast morals…” He takes a breath. “Need I go on?”                

                Oswald is speechless, so he just shakes his head. It causes James to huff out a laugh, before leaning in to steal a soft, sweet kiss. When he pulls back, his stomach rumbles. “That reminds me, the way you cook for me is also on that list.” He adds with a deep laugh that causes him to wince and collapse to the side of Oswald.

                Oswald feels so warm, his heart fluttering in his chest comfortably. “As soon as you can come home, I’ll cook for you again. And then, when you’re better, it’ll be your turn. Your grandmother’s secret dish is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” He says.

                “It’s a date.” James murmurs, sounding tired again. Oswald doesn’t mind. The more rested James is, the faster he heals, and the faster they will get to go home. The faster Oswald will be able to cook for James.

                He’ll bring James home with him, instead of taking James to his apartment. That way, he’ll be able to take care of James until he’s well enough to be on his own. He has a feeling it’ll be nice, even when James will inevitably be stubborn. Want to go back on the job before he’s completely healed. When Oswald will have to chastise him, and probably threaten to restrain him if he tried to go back too soon. And Oswald can’t wait.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

                Oswald is waiting on a dark street. His heart is pounding in anticipation, fist exercising his restraint by flexing around his umbrella handle. It’s taking longer than he expected, but he won’t be deterred. She will be here.

Finally, he hears a scuttling behind him. His heart picks up a bit-a mixture of hate and a tad bit of fear. “Going places without your bodyguards is dangerous, Penguin. Not that I’m complaining.” A sultry voice comes from behind him. He quickly whirls around. “It affords me the opportunity to pay my Pet back.” She hisses, going for the knives at her belt.

                Oswald merely raises a brow, raising his umbrella from it’s position on the cobblestones below and tapping it harshly three times. Immediately, the woman with long black hair is tied up, hissing. He watches a few moments while she struggles-as his men take away her knives and weapons easily.

                “James isn’t your pet. I’m afraid-” The King of Gotham says, stepping forward and crouching down with a twisted grin and a murderous glint to his eyes- “You will be the pet this time.”

                He watches as the woman’s eyes narrow, before she attempts to spit in his face. He merely leans backward to avoid the spittle, before laughing. “You see, a colleague of mine, was very disturbed and hurt that you would mess with his artwork. You remember Butch? Sort of intrigued, and very much eager to help me learn a few tricks of the trade. I can’t wait to repay the pain you’ve caused my Detective unto you.” He says, voice low and dangerous and half crazed with giddy-ness. It’d taken a few weeks of planning for this.

                Oswald couldn’t let this filth breath air. Not only because she had _touched and harmed_ his-now-lover. But because she was a threat. And Oswald had no qualms of extinguishing threats. Especially threats to the people he loved. He relished it. “Is this her?” A calm voice asks behind him.

                He looks over his shoulder to see a pale man looking at Tabitha as if she were an interesting-if somewhat childish-art work. “Yes, Zsaz, this is her.” He answers, turning his now smirk on the woman before him. She had gone pale. “You know Mr. Zsaz, I presume. Or at least, know _of_ him.” He asks, with glee. “We’re all going to very close together tonight.”

                He stands up, motioning for his men to drag her behind him and his colleague.

 

                Tabitha was never seen or heard from again. Oswald is only sorry he couldn’t drag it out _days_ as she had to his James. But he couldn’t risk her escaping and coming back to hurt James. No one is allowed to hurt James Gordon.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

                “Oswald?” James calls, sitting up in the bed they shared. He winces-his chest still a little sore.

                “James. You should be asleep.” Came a voice from the dark room. James reaches over and turns on the lamp beside him. It illuminates Oswald, who is taking off his shoes in the corner arm chair.

                “I was worried. Why were you out so late?” He asks, glancing at the alarm clock that was Oswald’s on the bed stand next to the lamp. It time stamped four thirty am.

                Oswald gives James a soft grin, that makes James’ heart flutter. “Some unfinished business ran late. It’s done with now.” Oswald tells James easily.

                James nods, patting the bed beside him. “Well, come to bed.” James would never admit it, but he wanted to cuddle. Even at the thought, his cheeks turn a little warm.

                “Of course, James.” He feels the dip in the bed when Oswald finally settles next to him. James turns off the light, and lays down-pulling the shorter man into his arms.

 

                Oswald feels something bump his side, and he startles awake-still not quite used to sharing a bed with someone. He sits up, and looks down to where the something had been. His eyes can just make out James’ twitching and struggling form next to him in the darkness of the room. He can hear James panted, panicked breath-and Oswald’s heart breaks a little. Just like it has every time he’d found his favorite detective having a nightmare.

                He reaches down and shakes his friend-and lover. “James. James…” He calls.

                “No…please stop. No-no more.” He hears muttered under James’ breath.

                He grips James’ shoulder a little more tightly, and brings his other hand to the man’s face. “James. You’re okay. It’s a nightmare.” He starts repeating this like a mantra, trying to awaken his boyfriend. Over and over, until, James finally opens his eyes with a snap-his breathing harsh.

                Oswald pets his hair out of his face, waiting for the confusion to fade from the blondes eyes. “Os-Oswald…I thought…I was…dreaming…about the table, and Tabitha.” He pants, clearly still frightened.

                Oswald maneuvers the man into his arms, stroking his hair and humming. “It’s alright, James. You don’t have to worry about the witch. I’ve taken care of her. She can’t hurt you anymore. I’m here.” He whispers into James’ ear softly-tears in his eyes. Wishing he could go back and hurt the woman again. But he can’t. She’s dead, gone. At least he knows for certain James is safe from her.

                It takes a long time for James to relax, and Oswald waits patiently. Waits patiently until his James falls asleep again. Knowing he would keep James safe forever-from everything he could. Knowing that they would be fine now.

                And they were.

**Author's Note:**

> It says eleven chapters. It will be, but, yah know...the lengths will vary. Cause I wanna be dramatic a bit... :3


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